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The Peaces

“Wild Buffalo Dance”

There is a land and there is not. There is a people, a you, a me, and our actions, and there isn’t. Crush the cryptozoological crust and it comes back, and it doesn’t. A newborn planet’s empty black aura becomes a hundred miles of atmosphere and rains and hails and hurricanes, and doesn’t. The tiny constituent parts of everything orbit and churn, and they don’t. I hope you didn’t expect an answer here, honey—because even though I have it, I don’t.

The Lonesome Lightbox Boys

PrintDunce

Westish

SLUG_April2016

SLUG Magazine

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SLUG Magazine Localized Concert Series

My Bones Were Boards, A Dado Through Me

My Bones Were Boards; A Dado Through Me

APF03

Alternative Press Festival Posters

hand02

Epiphany

dude02

The Dude Never Actually Bowls

temple_web

Morning Glory

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Golden Pheasant/ Whippersnapper

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Honk Ding Whistle

Father_william

You Are Old, Father William

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It and Not It

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Ew

hustle01

5th Annual Hustlebug

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NOS-ER-ATOR

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Thanks

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Snowy Owl You So Fat

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Thy Billows And Thy Waves

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The Man Child (In Gilgal)

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When He Woke

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YES

anthropo02

Anthropology Notes

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God Is In His Heaven

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The Fool and The Flying Ship

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A Concise Examination of Ryan Perkins, Suspect Genious [sic]

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Your Terrific Noses

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Coo

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Blue Paper

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Bonne Homme